Angel praznine
66
I suddenly fix my eyes on you. Gasp: “Amazing, amazing!! You look like an evil angel with your pitch black exterior and red eyes!”
The angel remains silent.
“Behold, the cruelty of time!” I make a symmetrical gesture with both hands, and an immaterial moving image comes into view: it is Julija chopping up a pig with her longsword. She cuts off one of its legs, and it squeals. She cuts off its second leg, and it squeals. She cuts off its third leg, and it squeals. She cuts off its last leg, and it squeals. She starts hitting its lower half, and it squeals and squeals until it cannot squeal anymore – because what Julija is hitting now is not a swine no more: it’s a mush of blood and flesh. – The coldness and indifference of time! It was nowing so long, it nullified the poor swine.
…
Now that someone or something granted you a shiny, exquisite new form, why don’t you make an observation worthy of it?”
S. S. observes that Julija and my structures are not my masks but something that allows me to express my real self; that the Redoubt is a place where I live in my undiluted form.
67
“Void angel, void angel! What shall we do next, void angel? Would you like to take me somewhere?”
The void angel takes me to the plane between the symmetry of my square lake and the Red Fortress’ rejection (he still insists that the Fortress judged me and rejected me), to a place where there are no structures and no Julija. His question: “Do you still know who you are?”
Me: “I, the unnamed one … I have never told you my name. Probably because it is of no consequence.” I sigh, sit on the ground, and fold my arms, staring drowsily in front of me. “I am so tired. So very tired.” I lay my head on my knees. “I wonder how much more …” I stop abruptly. I lie on the ground and fall asleep.
The void angel does not move, quietly promising that his minions will not disturb the silence.